Staying

I meet a lot of foreigners down here. I meet retired expats who sit amongst themselves in the shadows of their mountainside homes, drinking flaxseed smoothies in the same corner cafe morning after morning. I meet teams of bright-eyed young missionaries in matching t-shirts, eager to feed the children or spread the gospel or kick-start their personal revival. I meet vegan Western European backpackers drinking and couch-surfing their way around South America, huge Eastern European men-- who generally prefer being pants-less it might be noted-- on their way to summit a few volcanoes, New Yorkers visiting their Ecuadorian relatives, students studying abroad, German teenagers doing their year of volunteer service, crazy-haired sociologists, Peace Corps volunteers, marines, foreign service employees, and recent divorcees who were somehow financially fortunate enough to live their mid-life crisis Eat Pray Love style. 

I've fit several roles and probably their accompanying stereotypes during my time in Ecuador. Like most study abroad students I misplaced my dignity in Quito's Plaza Foch, and like most Fulbrighters I enjoyed being a "grantee" (not a "volunteer") by choosing private cars over public buses on leisurely weekend getaways. Now that I've decided to stay here without any real outside affiliation (a program, a grant), it's getting increasingly difficult to pin me down. Which brings me to my next point: I'm staying.

It became clear I would be staying when I realized I wasn't leaving. I don't mean "leaving" as in departing on an airplane, I mean "leaving" like that gradual tearing away, hopeful anxiety-filled period that usually occurs when you're transitioning into goodbye. I've done the "leaving" many times-- it occurs to me I'm actually more skilled at leaving than I am at staying. But I just haven't been leaving over the past few months. I tried to jump-start the process several times, mostly by taking people aside and telling them I was, in fact, returning to the States for good in August. I didn't read their eyes as saying "I will miss you," I read them as saying, "we both know that's not true." So I had a long time to be leaving, and I just kept staying, and here I am... staying. 

But before I can stay I need to leave for a bit. I miss my family and Resees peanut butter cups and the way the wind smells in coastal Virginia. I fly soon-- July 24. This is 11 days before the end of my grant period, but I figure I need that 11 days feeling what it feels like to be home more than I need 11 days of my grant money. I'll be Stateside for almost a month, in which time I'll definitely see my cousin get married and probably construct a haphazard road-trip with my Ecuadorian brother Marco, who is probably coming with me and everyone will probably assume is the reason I'm staying in Ecuador. You are all welcome to assume what you will. 

I've accepted a teaching contract at my current University-- Universidad Tecnica de Ambato-- for the next two semesters (September 2011-August 2012). I've been assigned real classes to teach, as well as research hours. To earn extra money, I'll also spend some time private tutoring, giving a swim lesson or two, and my friends want me to turn my kitchen into a for-profit bakery (this last one being slightly less likely). I won't speculate on details, since this is still Ecuador. But that is, strange as it may be, the "plan."